Sometimes he couldn't tell where his thoughts ended and the others
began. Where his mind took the turn from self control to remote control.
Sometimes the words twisted coming out of his mouth, sounding terrifying
and harsh, even to his own ears. Deep, dark raving sentences that curled
around him like colorful smoke, confusing his senses, making him unsure
whether the voices he was hearing were his own or . . . something else.
Someone else.
How? Why? Why was this happening? He hadn't walked down any dark alleys. Hadn't taken candy from strangers. Hadn't said anything, done anything to condemn him to this. He had kept his head down, done his job faithfully, played by the rules. And in return he had had his mind invaded and broken down into pieces to small to collect. Left unable to speak or to act without their permission. Left to wander his strangely silent mind and wonder what happened to the Percy who could have fought back.
He had laughed when they had taken him to his family. Confident they were making a mistake to go to those who knew him best. Secure in the knowledge that his family would save him. And even after all that he had said, he had been so sure. So sure that they would recognize the demon behind his eyes that when they hadn't it had devastated him, broken him in ways he hadn't known possible. They had laughed then. Asked him if he had thought they actually cared what happened to him.
And he had cried because they hadn't. Hadn't known him well enough to see that it wasn't him. Couldn't care enough to question why, he of all people, would turn his back on them. The third son, always laughed at. Teased and ridiculed. Striving so hard to show them it mattered. That he mattered. And what had he gotten. Perfect prefect Percy. They called him that now. Throwing the words at him like knives. Sneering at his naivete. Showing him all the things he had always known but never wanted to acknowledge.
The voices were laughing now. Dancing around his head, screaming their taunts about mum and dad. About Bill and Charlie. Fred, George, Ron, Ginny. Wondering why he never noticed the malice behind their words. How he could have missed that it wasn't sibling rivalry or friendly banter. They had hated him and he couldn't see it. Wouldn't see it. Showing him Harry and how they had loved a complete stranger more than their own son, their own brother.
They echoed in his head as he rested. Told him how his family hated him, hated him. How they hadn't ever really loved him. Said the twins weren't surprised at his behavior because they had expected it of him. Pointed out how quick his dad was to accept the fact that his son had deserted them. Questioned why Bill had called him a traitorous little bastard if he trusted him so much. Asked him how he had every gotten into Gryffindor. Where was his courage now? Locked in a small dark room somewhere in the far reaches of his mind. Behind the greed and ambition and pride that should have put him in Slytherin. It's what they had all expected.
And he couldn't keep himself from believing them. Even as his mind fought against it, some part of his heart accepted it. The small part that kept him from breaking whatever hold they had over him. The part that had kept him this side of freedom when he had watched the door as that thing had ripped his father to shreds. The part that had let it in in the first place. He knew that if they hated him, it was nothing less than he deserved.
He had screamed, surprised when he found he could. They had gone for the moment, leaving him to himself. His co-worker stuck her head in the door to see if everything was alright and he had smiled.
"Everything's fine."
And somewhere in the back of his mind a door finally wedged shut, clicking as it locked. And the voices laughed.
How? Why? Why was this happening? He hadn't walked down any dark alleys. Hadn't taken candy from strangers. Hadn't said anything, done anything to condemn him to this. He had kept his head down, done his job faithfully, played by the rules. And in return he had had his mind invaded and broken down into pieces to small to collect. Left unable to speak or to act without their permission. Left to wander his strangely silent mind and wonder what happened to the Percy who could have fought back.
He had laughed when they had taken him to his family. Confident they were making a mistake to go to those who knew him best. Secure in the knowledge that his family would save him. And even after all that he had said, he had been so sure. So sure that they would recognize the demon behind his eyes that when they hadn't it had devastated him, broken him in ways he hadn't known possible. They had laughed then. Asked him if he had thought they actually cared what happened to him.
And he had cried because they hadn't. Hadn't known him well enough to see that it wasn't him. Couldn't care enough to question why, he of all people, would turn his back on them. The third son, always laughed at. Teased and ridiculed. Striving so hard to show them it mattered. That he mattered. And what had he gotten. Perfect prefect Percy. They called him that now. Throwing the words at him like knives. Sneering at his naivete. Showing him all the things he had always known but never wanted to acknowledge.
The voices were laughing now. Dancing around his head, screaming their taunts about mum and dad. About Bill and Charlie. Fred, George, Ron, Ginny. Wondering why he never noticed the malice behind their words. How he could have missed that it wasn't sibling rivalry or friendly banter. They had hated him and he couldn't see it. Wouldn't see it. Showing him Harry and how they had loved a complete stranger more than their own son, their own brother.
They echoed in his head as he rested. Told him how his family hated him, hated him. How they hadn't ever really loved him. Said the twins weren't surprised at his behavior because they had expected it of him. Pointed out how quick his dad was to accept the fact that his son had deserted them. Questioned why Bill had called him a traitorous little bastard if he trusted him so much. Asked him how he had every gotten into Gryffindor. Where was his courage now? Locked in a small dark room somewhere in the far reaches of his mind. Behind the greed and ambition and pride that should have put him in Slytherin. It's what they had all expected.
And he couldn't keep himself from believing them. Even as his mind fought against it, some part of his heart accepted it. The small part that kept him from breaking whatever hold they had over him. The part that had kept him this side of freedom when he had watched the door as that thing had ripped his father to shreds. The part that had let it in in the first place. He knew that if they hated him, it was nothing less than he deserved.
He had screamed, surprised when he found he could. They had gone for the moment, leaving him to himself. His co-worker stuck her head in the door to see if everything was alright and he had smiled.
"Everything's fine."
And somewhere in the back of his mind a door finally wedged shut, clicking as it locked. And the voices laughed.
